"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt."
-- Margaret Atwood
Like two round buttons, my small dog Izzy and his little cat Tux snuggle and snooze at my feet as I fingerhug a keyboard 20 miles north from where the World Trade Center used to be and tap out a greeting to you this chilly spring morning.
Time to take a breath.
With the advent of spring comes the delight of memories, past and present. A true sign of new beginnings, especially for us widows. So from me to you, here's to new memories. And what they can bring.
Think outing. Perhaps to a botannical garden, the zoo, a central park. Think dig a garden, walk a dog, sit on a wooden bench with pen and spiral notebook.
Find someplace outdoorsy. Think woodsy, scented pine, blossoming oak or elm; where squirrels scurry for nuts and woodpeckers pound their faces loudly into the bark of a tree.
Make your new memory Widows.
Then fingerhug your pen. Write it.
I dare you.
Have a joy-filled day. And remember, we're not alone.
Now I'm off to dirty my hands. After I walk Izzy.